


The Incident After the Enterprise Incident

by candesgirl



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:18:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candesgirl/pseuds/candesgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is jealous of Spock and the Commander, but good God man, he wants to watch anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Incident After the Enterprise Incident

“She was…sexy, don’t you think, Spock?” Jim asked, sitting idly at his desk.

“Captain?” Spock inquires, quirked eyebrow firmly in place.

“Spock, don’t play dumb with me, I know. I saw her. I think it was the boots, maybe. She had nice…legs.”

“I assure you, captain, I am not ‘playing dumb’. I only question your reason to ascertain whether or not I found the Romulan commander, as you say, ‘sexy’”

“I’m…curious, Mr. Spock.” Jim’s eyes sparked golden brown, streaked with flecks of jealous green.

“Curiosity, as they say, killed the cat, Jim.” Spock chided him, the corners of his mouth turning up in something akin to a smile.

“Did it now?” Jim smiled, moving up from his chair and closer towards Spock. “You know, they say a cat has nine lives. Surely some curiosity would be okay then, would it not? And please, spare me the speech about a cat not actually having nine lives. Play along, would you? For me, play along.”

“I can not play along without further information. Would the cat in question, assuming it indeed had nine lives to live, retain information from previous lives? Would the curious thing that killed it stand as learned knowledge in the lives that followed? Or would the cat simply lose any information learned in previous lives? If it is the former then I am afraid I have to disagree….”

Jim moved closer, stepping in to Spock’s personal space as if he owned it, as if he’d earned the right to be there. “Spock. Is this your wordy way of telling me to mind my own business? Are you telling me I won’t like your answer?” Jim took Spock’s hand with his, brought long fingers up to his own face. “I’m pretty sure that alone tells me what I need to know but…”

“Jim.” Spock simply said; a name, nothing more, but it’s all Jim needed. It was Spock’s way of saying he didn’t think this was a good idea, his way of saying Jim was pushing too far, maybe telling Jim he should back off. 

Jim closed his eyes, pushing on Spock’s fingers against his cheek. “Show me. It’s…it’s okay. I want to see…” he said even as he stumbled back from the force of emotion storming it’s way into his mind.

Spock and the Commander whose name he does not know, the woman with the similar ears and the long legs, the boots and the bare shoulder, the bedroom eyes. Spock leaning towards her, husky voice meant only for Jim, her whispering, brushing her name past his sensitive ears. Desire. Worry for his captain. Confusion. Logic. Soft skin under long fingertips, fingers parted, stroking intimately. Enflamed. Electricity sparking over already too hot skin. Hot, moist breath grazing over sensitive fingertips. Maddening desire. Excitement. Shock. Ache. More worry and confusion and want. 

The fingers slipped away from his face and down to his lips, the meld having done it’s job. “You…wanted her.” Jim spoke roughly against those fingers, breath ghosting against them, not unlike she had done, a cruel reminder or a maybe a tease, he couldn’t be sure. Sure was the want he’d felt when Spock’s mind pressed into his, sure was his own aching hardness pulsing with its own need. “You’d have let her?” Jim asked, tongue darting out against one digit between words. “You’d have let her bring you pleasure, like this?” His tongue lavished attention again, licking further down the finger, to the fleshy web, darting out to lick as if he were between a woman’s legs before moving slowly back up. 

He looked at Spock then, taking in the darkened eyes, tight posture and hard heat against his hip, deciding then and there that this thing was both cruel and teasing, because no one should be touching his Spock, not like that, not like he does and he questioned again. “You’d have let her do the things to you that I do, Spock?” He asked his question again, neither wanting nor waiting for an answer before he engulfed not one but two long fingers, blowing hot around them as he descended and sucking tight as he could on the way back up, pausing only to gather a third digit on his way back down again. 

Jim was relentless, some need to prove something egging him on, some other twisted perversion to push things making him bring Spock’s other hand up to his face, not asking but demanding that Spock breach him again. Spock slammed into him, thrusting his memory turned fantasy at Jim with all he could muster. Jim watched as the things he did, she did, watched from some smoke screen he couldn’t break through, as his thoughts spurred her into action, as his actions moved her. 

Moments before, Jim wouldn’t have thought Spock as the voyeuristic kind, but then moments before he wouldn’t have thought Spock would have let it get so far, this thing with her. He wouldn’t have expected the level of desire, not from himself or from Spock, but Jim didn’t believe in no-win scenarios, not in battle or in love and if Spock wanted him to watch the show, he’d watch the show; he’d enjoy the show.

Jim pulled the puppet strings effortlessly, worked his mouth over slick coated fingers enough to bring Spock to the edge before he dropped to his knees, watched as the Commander did the same, her delicate dress ripping at the knees with the force of it. He watched as she looked up at Spock and breathed his name before rubbing her cheek along hard heat, before he felt hard heat. He wanted it so bad, to watch Spock fall apart, he wanted to watch her engulf him, her lips stretched tight around him, wanted it so bad he begged, begged for permission to touch it, to feel it in his mouth, to see it in hers.

“Is this what he does to you, Spock?” Jim spoke for the first time as her, his words coming out in her raspy purr, and then he was really into this game. “Does your captain get on his knees for you? Does he command you from this position, as I do now?” 

Spock whimpered, a glorious sound to Jim’s ears. His hands slipped their way through her hair, easy at first, stroking until Jim opened her mouth for her again, about to mutter some nonsense about this game. Jim watched then as Spock’s hands fisted in her hair, rough, watched as he shoved himself down her throat, pumping slim hips quick in and out of her mouth, not giving her, or Jim, a chance to recover until he stilled, hands tight in her hair. 

“You will cease talking.” Spock told them, and she tried to pull back then, Jim tried to pull her back but Spock was stronger, always stronger and held them there. “You will not speak.” Spock thrust his hips. “You will take what is given to you,” he thrust them again, “until I am done giving it to you.” 

Jim wasn’t sure then, when Spock had taken control of the situation, or how he had manipulated such a scene but next he knew she was gone and he was there instead, on his knees, sucking, swallowing his First.


End file.
